


lose the ballads and the lipped-mouths

by noelia_g



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: D/s undertones, Fluff, In Public, M/M, Modern AU, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:03:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noelia_g/pseuds/noelia_g
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a tumblr prompt: "all i care about on this earth is enjolras, a remote control vibrator that grantaire has the controller for, and a public setting literally that’s it"</p>
<p>Enjolras is more than glad to oblige.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lose the ballads and the lipped-mouths

“Last chance to back out,” Grantaire says when they reach the steps of Musain. He pulled Enjolras close tugging at his scarf, they hands clasped. It’s cold enough his breath comes out in a cloud of air and Enjolras bows his head to catch his lips.

“We had a deal,” Enjolras reminds him, careful to keep his tone firm. It’s not easy. 

“A deal you’ve made sleep deprived, running on fumes, and probably delirious from caffeine,” Grantaire says. “We can always…”

“When have you known me to do something I don’t want to?” Enjolras asks and tugs at his hands. “Come on, they’re going to wonder where we are.”

Everyone else is already inside, calling out greetings when they arrive. There’s palpable excitement in the air; it’s their regular meeting time, but Enjolras doesn’t even try to call it to order, tonight is about celebration. The vote has passed, with minimal majority but it _has passed_ , after weeks of petitions and phone calls and letters and rallies. _We did it_ seems to be on everyone’s mind.

On Enjolras’ mind… he can feel it when he moves. He makes rounds around the room, offers congratulations and thanks, and _he can feel it_ ; he wonders if anyone can see anything different about him. Absurdly, he wonders if anyone can read his mind, if anyone can tell.

Grantaire is acting extremely attentive - he takes Enjolras’ coat and folds it over the back of his chair, his hand on Enjolras’ elbow when they talk to Combeferre. It skids the small of Enjolras’ back before Grantaire steps away to get them drinks, searing hot even through the material of his shirt.

Today afternoon, right after the phone call came, the very second Enjolras disconnected, Grantaire was already pulling down his pants, dropping to his knees. He’s worked Enjolras’ cock a little too rough, a little too fast, entirely perfect, and then they fucked against the kitchen counter, because it was too much of a hassle to get to the bedroom, all the way down the hallway.

They’ve made it there eventually, of course, for Enjolras to grasp the sheets and swear loudly when Grantaire worked him open with his fingers and tongue, slicked him up, made him wet and sloppy and an incoherent mess, and then worked the plug in, filling him up.

_He can feel it now._

He takes the stage for a few minutes, to thank everyone for coming and for their tireless work these past few weeks. He’s brief in a way he never is, buzzing with anticipation and uncertainty. 

Enjolras knows Grantaire would never turn it on like this, in such a moment, but he _could_ , with the remote in his pocket. He could flick it on lazily with his thumb, turn the vibrations on, choose the setting he likes and Enjolras wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop him.

He flushes and hopes everyone chokes it up to excitement, to alcohol. He calls up Feuilly, who has been the driving force on this one, and isn’t disappointed when Courfeyrac whistles and starts chanting for a speech from him. Feuilly laughs and says he’d rather make a toast and Enjolras slips away, hoping to reach Grantaire’s table. 

He hasn’t even made two steps before it starts. It’s sudden, startling, but not entirely unexpected. He stumbles and stops in his steps, moves to lean against the bar, bowing his head. Fuck, _he can feel it_ , just a low buzzing inside him that nonetheless sets his nerve endings on fire. 

Grantaire is watching him from the corner, sprawled comfortably in his seat, nursing a beer. His lips are wrapped around the bottle’s neck, and Enjolras knows he’s doing it on purpose. 

“You okay?” Bousset asks, suddenly appearing at his side. Or maybe he just walked up to him perfectly normal, it’s just that Enjolras’ situational awareness is shot to hell, his world narrowed down to Grantaire’s gaze and the vibrating plug up his ass.

“Coming down from caffeine high,” Enjolras jokes. “It’s not pretty.”

Bousset nods in acknowledgement. “Tell me about it, I’m dating a med student and a coffee shop owner,” he laughs and pats Enjolras on the back before taking the drinks he ordered (when? Enjolras didn’t even notice that…) and heading back to his table. 

Enjolras’ reprieve is short-lived. Not only does Marius accost him to chatter happily on the vote, but also Grantaire switches up to the higher setting. Second. Maybe third. Who the fuck knows.

His cock hardens in his pants and he shifts awkwardly, hoping it goes unnoticed when he sits up on the barstool, trying to sit inconspicuously. He’s probably not very subtle about it at all, he can _feel_ Grantaire smirking all the way over here. It’s not the only thing he feels.

He’s full. He’s so incredibly, overwhelmingly full, he can feel it with every breath he takes. It’s even better (worse. better.) because Grantaire put it in, Grantaire wanted him to be filled and aching, it’s Grantaire’s thumb on the remote, controlling him, working him up, driving him insane.

The sensation stops abruptly and he can breathe again, the sounds filtering in. He can hear a buzzing sound in his ears, which is ridiculous _now_ , after the vibrations stopped. 

He makes his way over to Grantaire and while he wants to throw himself into the chair, what he does is sit down gingerly, feeling the plug shift inside him. _I hate you_ he wants to say, for suggesting this, for looking at me, for sitting there and being you. 

“I love you,” is what he says and Grantaire reaches out to stroke his cheek, scratch a line down his jaw playfully. 

“I will come back,” Combeferre says with amusement, coming to a stop by their table.

“No, sit down, I was just asking Enjolras how you guys plan to capitalise on this,” Grantaire says and Enjolras throws him a dark look to match Combeferre’s disbelieving one. Grantaire grins widely at them both and sits back, saluting Enjolras with his still almost full bottle. 

“Well, I hate to talk shop,” Combeferre lies and smiles while he lies, “but I had a few calls about interviews already. One’s national tv, even,” he says and that’s the moment Grantaire chooses to switch the thing back on, on an even higher setting than before. Enjolras forces himself to sit still, to not jump in the air, or groan, or slide off the chair and into the triangle of Grantaire’s legs. 

He thinks about it, about sucking Grantaire off, fitting his cock into his mouth while Grantaire grasps at his hair and moans. He could turn the vibrations to the highest setting, make Enjolras whine around his dick and beg to be allowed to come, he could fuck Enjolras’ mouth and come all over his face, he could…

“What do you think?” Combeferre asks and Enjolras whimpers, turns it into a hum he hopes comes out thoughtful and not desperate.

“Ask Feuilly. He probably won’t do the tv one, but, loathe as I am to suggest it, Courfeyrac should do it, he’s been great with the press on this one.”

Combeferre seems to think it over while Grantaire grins and nods at Enjolras, rewarding him with turning the dial up. 

It’s unbearable.

It’s amazing.

He digs his fingernails into his forearm, undoubtedly leaving marks, and bites down on his lip. Heat is spreading throughout his body in waves, his face burning up. “Thanks, ‘Ferre,” he says and tries to look apologetic about the almost outright dismissal.

Thankfully, unfortunately, Combeferre has always been rather good at reading him and he glances between Enjolras and Grantaire and nods. “Of course,” he says simply and stands up, smiling slightly at the cheerful wave from Grantaire. 

Enjolras leans forward, grasping the edge of the table, his knuckles white. 

“How are you doing?” Grantaire asks pleasantly and Enjolras feels the vibrations increase even more, to the point where he wants to scream. “You look flushed,” he adds with fake concern.

“Do you have any idea…” he mutters, stumbling, stuttering over his words. “I can’t think, I can’t breathe, I can’t do anything but think about this thing inside me and the fact that you put it there. You sit there, comfortable and composed, and you drive me mad with a flick of your finger, and all I want is for you to touch me, kiss me, fuck me, anything. Grantaire, _anything_.”

Grantaire puts the bottle down with a not insignificant force, glass clinking against the table. “Could you come like this? Just from the plug inside you?”

Enjolras groans and sits up, then slides back down in his chair, unsatisfied with any position. “Yes.”

“Do you want to, now?”

The mere thought is insane, impossible. He can’t, won’t, can’t… not here, not with people around, talking and laughing. No one is watching them, they’ve learned a while ago to give them a wide berth when they’re close together like this, because they’re either working up to an argument that will leave scorched earth behind or they’re about to drag each other out and home and into a bed. 

No one is watching them, but that doesn’t mean no one sees. They’d know, they’d surely know.

And the worst thing is, that does nothing to cool him down, quite the opposite, and he presses his palm against his cock under the table, pushes down to the point of pain. He can’t come until Grantaire lets him and he can’t come _here_.

“Not here.”

“But you will if I want you to, won’t you?” Grantaire says wonderingly and reaches out to take Enjolras’ hand in his, pull it away from his dick. “There’s one more setting to go, I can turn it up and make you come like this, without even touching your cock. You’ll cream your pants for me, bite your pretty lips to keep from screaming my name, and you’ll love it, won’t you, Enjolras?”

It takes him three tries before he even forms the words. “Yes. If you want me to, yes.”

“It’d be impolite to leave without saying goodbye,” Grantaire muses. “Go and do that, at least to your best friends. I’ll get your coat and meet you outside,” he says and, the fucker, the absolute, utter bastard, he turns the vibrator up.

Enjolras doesn’t know what he says to Combeferre and Courfeyrac, doesn’t remember if he wishes goodnight to Feuilly. He stumbles outside and his legs are shaking and he doesn’t know how he’s even standing. Grantaire catches him and pulls him close, and then the buzzing stops, Grantaire’s hand gentle in his hair, pulling his head down to aim him right for a quick, soft kiss.

“You were amazing. Can you walk home or do you want to take a cab?”

“I don’t… I can’t,” he mutters and Grantaire puts his arm around him while waving the other, hailing the taxi. He’s careful to keep his hands above Enjolras’ waist as they get in, Enjolras wincing as he tries to find a way to sit comfortably. There’s no way to sit comfortably, not with his dick rock hard and straining painfully in his pants and definitely not with the plug.

Grantaire buries his face in his neck and tells him to wait just a few minutes more. 

They take the elevator and Grantaire catches his hand in his and then, looking Enjolras straight in the eye, he turns the plug back on, scrolling through the settings, giving Enjolras maybe two seconds on each, before he hits the highest one. Enjolras’ legs almost give out and he relies on Grantaire to guide him into the apartment, to open the doors and move them inside, and then he’s falling to his knees and leaning his forehead against Grantaire’s thigh, breathing harshly.

“What do you want, Enjolras?” Grantaire asks, scratching behind his ear with easy tenderness. “I need you to ask me.”

“Let me suck you,” he says and Grantaire looks down in surprise. 

“Don’t you want to ask me to let you come?”

“I’ll hope you’ll let me,” Enjolras agrees. He can’t quite kneel up properly, he feels boneless and graceless, in a haphazard heap of limbs at Grantaire’s feet. “But I also really want your cock in my mouth,” he says honestly and Grantaire breathes in sharply before undoing his pants and taking his dick in his hand, guiding it to Enjolras’ mouth.

His hand tightens on the curls on the back of Enjolras’ head and he groans, fucking steadily into Enjolras’ mouth, just like Enjolras wanted him to. “You can come, whenever you want,” he tells Enjolras. 

He doesn’t need telling twice, he shifts forward, his dick pressing against Grantaire’s ankle, and with the plug fucking him relentlessly he comes, moaning around Grantaire’s cock, making him shiver and groan and come soon after, moaning Enjolras’ name. 

He fumbles for the remote and turns the plug off, then stumbles to the floor and kisses Enjolras messily, roughly, teeth and tongue and his hands on the sides of Enjolras’ face. “You’re going to kill me one day,” he tells Enjolras, who almost hyperventilates when he laughs and sags forward to bury his face in Grantaire’s neck and breathe him in.

“I hate you,” he says softly, fondly, his lips moving against Grantaire’s skin.

**Author's Note:**

> JFC, I need to stop writing bdsm fluff for those two (I'll never stop) and people need to stop coming up with brilliant, amazing headcanons on tumblr.
> 
> (btw, come say hi: realitycheckbounced.tumblr.com)


End file.
